theologyprojectfandomcom-20200214-history
Emotions
"Now I'd like every head bowed and every eye closed," the evangelist's voice murmured musically to the audience. His words were like the last notes of a song--inevitable, predicatable even, and entirely necessary. Without them, the emotional peak the congregation had reached in response to the ever-crescendoing cadence of the pastor's voice would be left to trickle out slowly as the pews were cleared. Instead, this coreographed invitation directed the flow of energy into a fine point. Em Otional sat surrounded by five of her friends. She didn't usually go to church, but her friends did, and somehow they had convinced her to attend the revival meeting tonight. There had been a potluck before hand--that had been pretty good. Then the music hadn't been too bad. The few times she had attended church as a child she had always felt weird when they sang hymns. After all, singing praises to some big abstract Creator person had always seemed rather strange to her. But the songs tonight had been much better filled with lines like "I could sing of your love forever." These were far more innocuous for they didn't necessarily have to be applied to an omnipotent God; besides, the lines were repeated so many times that any meaning could be forgotten and the line could become a nice mantra rather than a confession. By the time the boring stuff had begun (the sermon, that is), she was ready to hear something other than the same line they'd been singing for the past five minutes, and thus was a bit more receptive to his opening remarks. True, her attention began to wander after the first few minutes, and by the end, her program had been turned into an art museum, but she had managed to pick up a few main points like, "You are loved," and, "Everyone's a sinner." She had been particularly intrigued by the pastor's fictional story about a deadly disease which ravaged the country and a boy who had been immune to it. The boy had agreed to give his life so that vaccines could be made from his blood and the rest of the world could be saved. But then, once all those people's lives had been saved by his, almost no one came to his funeral. That had been a good story. She couldn't exactly remember the application line--something about the Jesus church people were always talking about being like that. Anyway, as she had sensed the sermon wrapping up, the pastor's words had become louder and louder. He pounded his fist more and threw out lines like, "You need a Savior!" "If you don't give your life to Jesus, you'll spend eternity in hell!" At that line her pen had paused as she envisioned the painting she had seen by Michaelangelo as a child portraying men being beaten and tortured in this place called hell...she didn't want to go there. That would be bad. Suddenly, the pastor's voice broke. Alarmed, she glanced up--he was crying. "Don't go home tonight without knowing for sure!" Music began to play--soft piano. It reminded her of the music at a funeral. She didn't want to go to hell. And then came the infamous words: "Now I'd like every head bowed and every eye closed." As he invited people forward, she could hear people crying around her. Chairs scraped back. For a moment, she wondered in terror if she were the only one left in her seat. She felt distinctly uncomfortable. She didn't want to go to hell. Maybe she should go up too. "If you feel like you've been spoken to tonight, I'd like you to come forward: we have some people up here ready to pray for you. If you'd like to know for sure today if you've been saved, or if you just feel like you've strayed away and need to recommit yourself to Christ, I want you to get up from where you are right now and come and let us pray for you." The pastor was becoming more insistent. He was talking to her. She didn't know if she was going to heaven or hell. He was talking to her. "Come forward!" Suddenly, overwhelmed, she rose from her chair. As she groped her way through the throng, tears began streaming down her face. She didn't want to go to hell. She collapsed in a heap at the altar, sobbing uncontrollably. "Has God spoken to you tonight?" the man cooed soothingly. "God died to save everyone. Would you like to spend eternity with Him?" Em nodded, chocked by frightful tears. "Alright then, repeat after me...Dear Father..." As Em completed parroting the man's words, he grasped her hand and smiled broadly. "Congratulations! You are now a Christian!" Soon she was swarmed by her friends all patting her on the back. She was a Christian now. She was safe. She didn't need to worry about hell anymore. Of course, she attended church the next week. After all, as her friends had cheerfully instructed her, that was part of being a Christian. Good Christians should read the Bible (at least once a day, preferrably in the morning, and at least a chapter), tithe (ten percent was good enough), go to church regularly (it was acceptable to skip every now and then, though), and pray (at least before meals). As long as you did that, you were fine. You were saved. You were in. I say all this, not to bash evangelists, and certainly not to condemn the typical Christian routine. However, it is a warning. Christianity is not an emotion. It is not a trend or a club or even an escape from hell. Christianity is a relationship and it is a way of life. If your Christianity is based on emotions or is founded simply on a way to make sure you avoid hell, then there is a big problem. I would even go so far as to say you are not a Christian. A true Christian should be radically different from the world. When he says that prayer, he should change completely for he is dying to his old self and his own desires and committing to live for Christ. Yes, he will not be perfect, for he still has a sin nature. But he is now on a path he cannot deny, he cannot fake, and he cannot ignore. He cannot go on with his former life, he cannot even add in a new routine on Sundays and ten minutes or so each day. He must live a transformed life. Am I a true Christian? Do I have a relationship with Jesus Christ? Or do I have a religion, a culture, a routine? Am I radically different from the world, or am I just following the rules, playing the game, fitting in with the church crowd, and being happy that I'll go to heaven one day because I've played along? Am I willing to do whatever God asks me, to give up whatever God tells me, and to serve Him entirely, even if that means never becoming wealthy, well-known, or well-respected? Am I a Christian? Or is it all a game? And if it is, what can I do about it? Em Otional may have truly become a Christian, but more likely than not if she asked herself these questions, she would discover that she, like, I would venture to say, the majority of American "Christians," is just playing the game so that she can escape hell or fit in.